


If You Need It, I Need It

by ProblematicFavesAreProblematic (SaritaNotSerena)



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28182834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaritaNotSerena/pseuds/ProblematicFavesAreProblematic
Relationships: Johnny Martin (Band of Brothers)/Reader
Kudos: 5





	If You Need It, I Need It

Johnny Martin x Reader

**Summary** : The death of Eugene Jackson weighs heavy on each and every soldier in Easy Company. You and Johnny find comfort in each other

 **Warnings** : mutual infidelity, SMUT, ROUGH SMUT, BADLY WRITTEN SMUT, weak attempts at making it fluff, a terrible example of safe sex (don’t risk it, wrap your biscuit), unhealthy coping mechanisms, ANGST PROBABLY BC I HAVE A PROBLEM

And ,guess what? _**Another**_ song-inspired fic! Title and feels brought to you by [Need It by Half Moon Run](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FrSmc8PoMhg)!

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You never knew a kiss could hurt so sweetly.

The way John’s mouth pressed against yours was bruising and unyielding, tasting of salt and guilt and such a deep sadness you feared you may drown in it. 

But it was everything you wanted- everything you _needed_.

The death of the young Eugene Jackson had been the metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back for _many_ people, all the years of _death_ and _destruction_ and _cold_ and _hunger_ and _loss_ seeming to come to a head in the sleepy town by the river. You felt as if you had aged decades in the span of five years.

Hope had died for you somewhere in Holland. The painful ache of disappointed resolve could only take you so far, and for some reason Johnny Martin’s face had made it clear that it was no longer sustainable.

You were lonely, you all were _so hollow and lonely_ that you were amazed no one had yet cracked in two.

When the two of you had found each other that night, it suddenly didn't matter that you were both spoken for. You didn’t _care_ that you were expected to marry a cold man of your father’s choosing when you got home, and when John had locked the office door behind him you knew that his loyalty to Patricia was the furthest thing from his mind.

The song the two of you had been dancing to these past four years had _finally_ reached its crescendo, all of the shared nights of quiet reassurances and lingering looks and too-affectionate touches finally demanded resolution.

And _he’d_ been the one to kiss _you_ , after all.

But any guilt you’d expected to feel failed to come, your hands clutching at him as if he were the only thing keeping you alive.

A broken sob slips out of your throat when he bites at your lips, but he doesn’t seem to hear it.

Maybe he’s worried about drowning, too.

You shove his coat off of his shoulders, the cold in your bones crying out for the warmth only his skin could provide.

“ _I know, Baby- I know…_ ” he mumbles against your lips, his own hands clawing at your clothing as well. “I’m comin’, I’ve _got_ you- _Fuck—_ ”

You claw your nails down his back, knowing you were probably being too rough but the fire in your veins sings for _more_ , _more_ , _more_.

More of what? You had no idea.

John seemed to, though. He seemed to know _exactly_ what you needed.

Hands in your hair _crank_ your head back until he’s looming over you with kiss-swollen lips and bright eyes.

He shakes his head in something akin to disbelief. 

“ _You’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you, Kid_?”

When you let a wicked smile curl your lips upward, he growls like some sort of beast.

“ _I can think of worse ways to go…._ ** _Sir_** _.”_

The hand that latches around your throat only makes you grin wider. 

He’s gotten you down to your tank top, and you watch his eyes catch how your nipples pebble in the cold night air. His jaw is slack with desire, the hand on your throat pulling you from your seated position on the table so you are standing toe to toe.

“You want this, _right_?” John’s breathing is rough, his warm breath washing over your face and making you drunk. When you don’t immediately respond he tightens his hand around your throat ever so slightly and brings his other hand down to fist the material of your shirt at your breastbone.

“Hey- _look at me_. **_Tell me_** you want this or I’m not doing another _fucking_ thing—”

You cut him off with a vicious kiss before quickly slipping your hand down the front of his pants and squeezing. Swallowing his groan greedily, you nuzzle at his cheek until you get him to turn his head enough for your lips to find his ear.

“ _No_ ,” you whimper, and when you feel him about to pull away you bite at his earlobe. “I fucking _need_ this….I _need_ **_you_** , John Martin.”

With a curse of your name, he seals his mouth back to yours, hands sliding down your torso and tugging your clothes out of his way.

No one called him just _‘John’-_ not his mom or his sister or his men or even Patty. It rolled off of your tongue so sweetly that before now he’s always had to fight the urge to chase it with his lips. 

No one had ever _just_ wanted John Martin.

Yet here you were, _needing_ him.

 _You could feel how much he liked knowing that_.

As your pants slide down your legs you feel his bruising grip on your freshly bared flesh, desperately hoping that you’ll have marks on your skin after this is all over.

“You don’t mean that,” Johnny chastises, gasping against your neck as hips buck unexpectedly into your borderline torturous touch. “Fuck, Baby- don’t say that to me unless _you mean it…._ ”

One of your hands fists in his hair and brings his face between your newly exposed breasts for him to explore with his tongue.

“You told me to be selfish, didn’t you?” You remind him. “You said that if I wanted something, I needed to _make it mine and take it_ , **_didn’t_** _you_?”

At the time, he’d been trying to reassure you that it was okay to say no to things- more specifically, John had been referencing your family’s predetermined plans for you and your happiness.

 _“Your life is your own, Y/N Y/L/N. And after all that you’ve seen and done- you_ **_deserve_ ** _to be happy. Take what you want and make it yours, take it if you gotta. You’re too bright to be snuffed out…”_

When you look down your chest and see the piercing heat in his eyes, you almost lose your nerve.

He’s _sinfully_ beautiful, the hungry incubus your mother had tried to warn you of when you told her of your plans to join the Airborne’s medical staff. 

Debauched, single-minded, dangerous.

God, how you loved it.

His teeth bite into the soft skin of your breast, refusing to free you from his wild and wanting gaze.

“If you won't give it to me, let me go so I can find someone who will.”

Judging by the snarl that twists his face, he doesn’t like your insinuation one bit.

As he straightens up to shuck off his trousers, you turn around and shove your underwear down to your knees, pressing your forehead onto the cool wood of the table you’d been sitting on and offering your backside to him like a crude and carnal oblation.

Biting kisses are bestowed across your shoulders and down your back as his fingers spread your slickness across the petals of your sex, pinching and plucking at you until you are writhing before him. You know that you’re breathing too loud but cannot find it in yourself to keep quiet.

“ ** _Please_** ,” you mewl, hands reaching blindly behind you in a vain attempt to get a grip on some part of him. “ _Please please please please—_ ”

Rough hands grip your hips and twist you back around so you are facing him before you are shoved back almost violently.

Your head is spinning, a foggy delirium of desire making you pant stupidly up at John.

Hands press your knees upwards and outwards, opening you up for him to admire and praise.

“Don’t beg, _never_ beg—god _damn_ it, Kid, you _never_ gotta beg **me** for anything….Fuck, _look at you. Never_ hide your face like that again”

His cock is in you before you can fully process his words (namely the word _again_ ), a broken cry being swallowed by his kiss before it can grow any louder.

It’s rough and sloppy and desperate- your bodies twisting and turning like flames of a wildfire. You’re sure the table beneath you will break but John is holding you so _fucking_ tightly that you think that it almost wouldn’t matter if it did.

You babble mindlessly into his ear about how _good_ he feels and how _good_ he’s making _you_ feel, and in turn John calls you _beautiful_ and _perfect_ and tells you how _good_ you are which only serves to drive you crazier. 

In a move you hadn’t expected, his rough fingers reach between the two of you and pinch at your clit, jerking it up and down in a motion similar to the way you’d stroked his cock.

_Good God, you’d never considered touching it like_ ** _that_**.

“ _Oh shit,_ ” you curse, back beginning to bow at the overwhelming heat coiling in your lower stomach.

“You like that, _huh_?” his voice is smug in your ear. “God knows I like it, Sweetheart- fuckin’ do this _whenever you want_ , Baby—”

“ _Shut up,_ ” your voice is high and wavering, unfamiliar to your ears. “Don’t say that if—”

“ _I_ ** _do_** _fuckin’ mean it._ ** _Come_** _._ ”

Lightning- that’s what it feels like. Electricity dancing wildly against your skin and throughout your body, the crackle of release curling and skating from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.

And it just doesn’t stop.

You know that John is kissing you, you know that he is shooting deep inside of you, you know that he’s apologizing while he pumps into you without hesitation.

_“I know I shouldn’t I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t ask I didn’t mean to Please don’t stop.”_

Your eyes are open and unseeing, relying on your hands to find his ass and pull him into you so he doesn’t stop.

_“It’s okay It’s okay I need you so much You feel so good Please don’t leave me.”_

The lips that had been at your cheek kissing tears away now give way to gritted teeth, John’s breath hot and wet against your skin as he rolls his hips once, twice more before stilling inside of you.

Still quaking beneath him, you turn your head to share his labored breath and open your mouth obligingly when he licks at the seam of your lips.

“Too much?’ he asks breathlessly, the damp strands of his overgrown hair tickling your face as he lets his head fall into your shoulder. “Was it…. _did I take too much?_ ”

You shake your head no, kissing at his sweaty temple and lethargically wrapping your arms around him.

“You’re _perfect_ , John Martin. _God help me_ , you are nothing less than _perfect_.”

In this moment, you can’t think too much about what you’ve done- the implications and inevitable fallout for your transgressions that you will both will have to face once the afterglow has faded and the cold morning takes its place.

As if he knows your train of thought, John nuzzles further into your neck and kisses your sweaty skin sweetly.

“Stay here,” he commands, his voice a soft and sleepy rumble in his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, _just stay here with me….”_

Closing your eyes you nod and rake your hand through his hair.

“Okay,” you say. “ _Okay_.”

Your sins can wait. 

You can both be selfish for a little bit longer.


End file.
